


I wanna rip the sky right down and have you with me

by Shadowcrawler, unwindmyself



Series: follow me down the rabbit hole [14]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Bondage, F/F, Feelings, Femslash, Gags, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Polyamory, Post-Season/Series 04, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-11-02 20:19:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10951992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowcrawler/pseuds/Shadowcrawler, https://archiveofourown.org/users/unwindmyself/pseuds/unwindmyself
Summary: Set before the diner scene, Daisy and Jemma go off for some privacy.





	I wanna rip the sky right down and have you with me

**Author's Note:**

> For the record: we are of the mind that Fitz was correct when he said "I think I'm a bad person." He did some very bad things and we are seriously displeased with him, to the degree that the discussions that happen in this fic are milder by far than what we actually think about the situations. There is no chance of pretending that the canon heterosexual relationship is not going on anymore, but that does not mean that we approve of it in the slightest.

So maybe Jemma’s decision to run for what’s left of her bedroom in search of a jacket was a flimsy excuse. Maybe she knows full well that if she was cold (and really, she can’t imagine how she would be, honestly, not with all of the adrenaline pumping through her) she could just borrow something from someone else, there’s got to be some jumper or another lying around nearby. Maybe she just wants to see what _is_ left of her room, inventory what remains and what she’ll have to replace (again) if they don’t go to prison because whoever’s coming for them might not believe the story about how the base blowing up, Director Mace dying, General Talbot getting shot, and every other godforsaken horrible thing that’s happened is the fault of a deranged android who got herself turned (In)human by faulty science and a mystical evil book in an alternate dimension constructed by said robot and a couple of Scotsmen with varying degrees of intention based on a worst possible iteration of what the world would look like had some people’s greatest regrets been altered.

Maybe she just wants to have a few moments where she doesn’t have to put on a strong face about it, or a face like she isn’t bothered by everything she’s seen, or a face like she can actually imagine what tomorrow is going to look like because right now, at this exact moment, she genuinely can’t. “We’re all in this together” doesn’t exactly quantify what “this” means. And “together” is a relative term too.

Maybe she just wants to have a few moments screaming bloody murder into a pillow.

Maybe it’s all of this, and maybe Jemma knows there’s not any maybe about it but she’s calling up the last bit of hope she’s capable of to aim at the idea that she’ll not be bothered while she breaks herself down and then puts herself back together.

She’s already started crying before she reaches her room, and there’s nobody to hide it from so she’s sniffling and rubbing her eyes and making these little stupid inadvertent noises like she keeps choking on her own breath. She fumbles for the doorknob (charred but intact) and slams into the room in a frenzy and - oh, look. A blazer, hanging off her desk chair. Her room was far enough from the impact that the furniture has still retained its shape, at least.

She’s got the blazer in sight when she collapses on her bed and starts sobbing.

A minute or so later there’s a knock at the door. “Jemma?”

Oh, hell. Jemma’s mind quickly runs through the options: pretend she’s not here, pretend she’s all right, pretend she’ll be out in a minute. Shout “go away.” None of these things are actual feasible options, though, because she knows it’s Daisy outside waiting for her. So she at least tries to steady her voice and neaten up her hair before she calls, very softly, “Daisy?” She knows it’s her but what she doesn’t know is if it’s _only_ her. That’s what she’s looking to find out.

“Yeah, just me,” calls Daisy. “Can I come in?”

Jemma nods before she realizes that Daisy won’t have seen that and replies, “Yes,” hating how small she sounds.

Daisy opens the door, smiling tentatively at Jemma. “Hey,” she says gently. “If you want me to go, I can go, but Coulson thought maybe...maybe we shouldn’t be alone right now, any of us. Because. Y’know. Safety in numbers.”

“No,” Jemma says quickly. “No, I… stay. Please? You’re the only one I could face right now, I think, but I want to. Face you. Here.”

“Okay,” says Daisy, padding over to the bed. “Want me to sit down?”

“Please?” Jemma repeats, though she looks down and finds she doesn’t want to lift her gaze, as if that will convince Daisy that she’s not falling apart.

Daisy sits down next to Jemma and reaches to touch Jemma’s hair. “This okay?”

“Yes,” Jemma mumbles. “I promise I’ll be alright soon enough, I just - I haven’t had a chance to really stop and think everything out yet, and…”

“Hey, you don’t have to apologize to me.” Daisy pets Jemma’s hair as she adds, “It’s been a hell of a couple of days. I think we’re all still freaking out.”

“As we ought to be,” Jemma sighs. It seems to take her a few moments to be able to continue, but she does, softer than before, bitterer. “It’s all rather absurdly melodramatic, isn’t it.”

Daisy snorts. “That’s an understatement. I mean, I meant what I said to Fitz, about how we have to stick together, but…”

“But?” Jemma asks, because she doesn’t know how else to articulate that she needs to hear Daisy think that through. She doesn’t disagree, but she… she needs to know.

“I don’t know.” Daisy shakes her head. “I don’t want him to beat himself up about what he did, and I don’t think letting him stay behind would be the right thing to do at all-”

“You know I haven’t actually heard him say the words ‘I’m sorry’ yet?” Jemma asks before she can stop herself. It sounds angrier out of her mouth than it did in her head, but she can’t undo that now.

Daisy winces. “Yeah, I kinda got that impression.”

“He hasn’t,” Jemma says. “He’s having no trouble admitting that he did things and implying that they had terrible consequences. But he hasn’t, maybe he _can’t_ …”

“Maybe,” sighs Daisy. “And like, I get it, we’ve all done shitty things. And I don’t want to turn him in for murder or anything, but...it’s complicated, I guess.”

“It is,” Jemma agrees. “I… I want to believe that it’s not really him, that the circumstances… or that he… I don’t know. The man I saw in the Framework, he was cold and cruel and he was a _killer_. I saw it in his eyes. He’d have…”

“What?” Daisy asks, eyes widening. “What happened?”

“Before he and I went through the portal,” Jemma says, sniffling aggressively, “I tried to speak to him, wake him up a bit, but he… I’d killed his father, and he wouldn’t listen when I tried to tell him about us, about who he is to me, about how whatever horrible entanglement AIDA had dreamed up for him was just a construct. He…”

Jemma’s lying on her stomach, so Daisy carefully guides her head into her lap and strokes her hair. “Jesus,” she murmurs. “That’s…”

“He wanted to kill me,” Jemma whispers after taking a deep breath. “He wanted to execute me. I wasn’t kneeling in compliance fast enough for him, so he shot me in the leg, and that hurt but I knew it wouldn’t last, but he had me on my knees staring down the barrel of a gun in his hand.” She pauses, shudders. “ _Say you’re nothing to me_ , he shouted. If the simulated Radcliffe hadn’t shot him, I’d be dead.”

Daisy cuddles her a little closer. “I’m sorry,” she says, because that’s all she can think to say.

That’s apparently all Jemma needed to hear, because she bursts out sobbing and doesn’t reply for a good couple of minutes. When she does, it’s frantic, a rush of words. “I don’t know anymore! I don’t know what is and isn’t real. The man I thought I knew, I thought I _loved_ , he wasn’t there at all, not in the Framework. But back here, where he should be back to himself, there are still hints of the other? He admits to being… but when we’re alone all he does is mope and cry and mutter about how he did bad things and they’re his fault, and he can’t just look me in the eye and apologize for nearly killing me.” She hides her face against Daisy’s thigh.

“Well, that’s shitty,” Daisy says. She starts to rub Jemma’s back.

“He hasn’t even mentioned it,” Jemma adds. “To say nothing of how in the whole design of the bloody place, I was dead to begin with! Never mind his robot-self’s plea that if we just subjected ourselves to the Framework we could be together forever, and happy. Somehow the world dictated by his - his _daddy issues_ necessitated that I be a corpse in a shallow grave. I’m sure some of that was AIDA, but…” She swallows heavily. “I don’t know how to parse out what was a lie and what wasn’t anymore. But when he looked at me there, he didn’t know me at _all_. There was nothing there.”

“Wow,” breathes Daisy. “ _Nothing?_ That’s...I believe you but that’s insane.”

“Nothing but hatred,” Jemma whispers.

“God.” Daisy keeps rubbing her back. “That’s awful.”

“He told AIDA he still has feelings for me,” Jemma continues, “but he hasn’t been able to say as much to me, so I’m not sure how much it really counts for.”

Daisy makes a face. “Why are guys so shitty at that? I mean. Maybe I can’t talk, but.”

“I don’t know!” Jemma exclaims. “I haven’t been exactly wonderful at being forthcoming either, in general, but considering I knowingly risked my own life to tell him how I felt… it seems like he would put some effort into reciprocation.” She rolls her eyes. “I don’t know what I want more from him, ‘I’m sorry’ or ‘I love you’ or both, but anything would be better than this perpetual monotone self-flagellation.”

“Yeah, I can’t blame you,” Daisy says. “I love you, anyway, okay?”

“I love you too,” Jemma murmurs. “I mean that. I know that more certainly than anything.”

“You’re great,” says Daisy, running her finger over Jemma’s cheek. “You’re so strong and brave and...great.”

Jemma exhales heavily, shutting her eyes. “You are,” she murmurs. “You’re my hero. You’re everything amazing.”

“Wow, overkill much,” teases Daisy. “But thanks. It’s...nice to hear. You too, alright?”

“I mean it,” Jemma says earnestly. “I don’t mean to put pressure on you, but, but especially after everything… I don’t know where I’d be without you.”

“It’s okay, I get it.” Daisy chuckles. “I definitely feel the same way. You’re...you’ve helped keep me sane and stuff.”

“Good,” Jemma murmurs. “I want to help however I can, alright? You’re… you’re so important, and I don’t know if I can really do much for you, but whatever I can do I will.”

“Hey, I don’t wanna be selfish,” Daisy says, smirking. “I wanna do the same for you.”

“You do,” Jemma promises. “You take care of me, you take care of everyone, and you’re so _good_ and kind and you’re thoughtful and compassionate and, and god I can’t believe sometimes that you’re, that we’re, that even when everything else is falling apart I have you.”

“Aw, Jem.” Daisy’s actually getting a little choked up, so she swallows and then says, “Hey. We don’t have a ton of time, do you maybe wanna do something to help each other feel better?”

Jemma nods all in a hurry. “I don’t want to make you sad, too,” she says shyly. “I… I’m going to…” She pushes herself off the bed and runs to the closet, where her small sneaky bondage box lives, then she returns and starts rummaging.

“Whatever you want,” Daisy murmurs. “I mean, within reason. We probably don’t have a ton of time.” She makes a face. “Sorry.”

Jemma nods and pulls out the harness gag, raising an eyebrow to make sure that’s acceptable before she starts buckling it on. She needed to talk, is the thing, but now she needs to stop talking, to stop the temptation to keep going in circles. She trusts that Daisy will understand.

Daisy nods. “Okay, that’s a good idea, I think.” She pauses. “We probably don’t have time to strip, but…” She glances over at Jemma’s desk. “We could go over there?” she asks, nodding at it.

Jemma glances over and makes a noise of assent. That’ll do.

Daisy offers her hand, and when Jemma takes it she pulls her to her feet and leads her over to the desk. “Sit on it,” she coaxes. “I think that’ll be fastest.”

Humming, Jemma does, glancing down at her pants.

“Just a second,” says Daisy, going over to look through the bondage box before retrieving a couple of cuffs, meant for use on the headboard, but the straps are long enough that she thinks they’ll work here. “Wrist?” she asks.

Jemma nods, offering her left wrist gently.

“Good girl,” murmurs Daisy, fastening it around Jemma’s wrist and then hooking the other end onto one of the desk legs. Then she repeats with Jemma’s other wrist. “How’s that?”

“Mmm,” Jemma says, staring at Daisy with all of the love and trust in the world.

“I want you to be able to participate,” Daisy says with a grin, “but not _too_ much.” She reaches for Jemma’s pants. “You good if I take these off?”

Jemma whimpers and nods eagerly, arching her hips.

Once Jemma’s naked from the waist down, Daisy drops her own pants and teases her fingers over Jemma’s center. “Good?”

“Mmm,” Jemma repeats, shifting in place.

“Y’know,” Daisy says, rubbing at Jemma’s flesh, “I’m really looking forward to when everything slows down and we can just like, go somewhere nice and hang out for a couple days and you won’t have to worry about keeping quiet.”

Jemma whimpers, letting her head come to rest against Daisy’s shoulder. That sounds like something out of a dream right now, and her brain starts to debate the semantics of that (ideal, yes, but also unrealistic) before it stops abruptly. She can’t discuss it right now, so there’s no point letting the thought bounce around. She should just stay in the moment.

“I _know_ it’s probably not gonna happen,” says Daisy, like maybe she could tell Jemma’s brain was trying to logic it out, “but still. I like taking care of you.”

That makes Jemma sigh, wistful almost, and nuzzle against Daisy’s shoulder before she can tell herself not to.

“You’re so pretty,” murmurs Daisy. “And I love hearing your noises, knowing I’m making you feel good.”

The next noise Jemma offers is mostly agreement - _you are_ \- with a little bit of pride tossed in. It’s important to her, so important, that Daisy knows how much she’s appreciated.

“Thanks, honey.” Daisy moves her fingers a little faster, then asks, “Getting close?”

Jemma hums ambivalently. She’s getting there, but she’s not quite there yet, but that’s not because Daisy’s not making her feel nice because she is, but - up to Daisy to interpret.

Daisy slips a finger inside, using her thumb to circle around Jemma’s clit. “How about this, is that good?”

Jemma nods, pulling back so she can meet Daisy’s eyes. Hopefully that helps confirm it.

Adding another finger, Daisy starts thrusting them and leaning over to start kissing and nipping at Jemma’s neck. “Good girl,” she whispers in between kisses, “I’m proud of you.”

Jemma whines, just a little, soft and inquisitive. She’s far enough under that she can’t make any leaps to why that might be.

“You were such a badass in the Framework,” encourages Daisy, still working at Jemma, “and you found your way back to me, and you got Fitz back. You were amazing.”

The mention of Fitz makes Jemma pout a little, still conflicted as she is, but she nods again, trying to convey how Daisy’s praise makes her feel, which is - warm. Good. All that sort of thing.

“Shit,” says Daisy, like she’s realizing she shouldn’t have mentioned Fitz at all. “Sorry, honey, I just meant you’re, y’know...you took care of yourself and you did a good job.”

Jemma sighs. She knows that, she knows it wasn’t meant any way but that. But her filters are down, the instinctual reaction slipped through. She manages to pull one of her hands close enough to trace over Daisy’s hip and attempts a consoling “I love you,” messy though it is.

“I love you too,” says Daisy, crooking her fingers inside Jemma and kissing her as best she can around the ball gag.

That elicits a very needy whimper, and Jemma blinks rapidly as she arches her hips up, begging for more.

“That’s pretty,” purrs Daisy, continuing the rhythm with her fingers. “Thanks, honey.”

Jemma nods frantically, wiggling as best she can. Since her legs are left free, it occurs to her she can sort of wrap one of them around Daisy’s side, just urging her closer; she feels a little silly for not thinking of it sooner.

Daisy leans into her. “Just a little more, huh?” she asks. “C’mon.”

It doesn’t take much more of that to successfully bring Jemma to orgasm, and she gives a low sort of keening sound as she does, her head once again falling down to Daisy’s shoulder.

“Good girl,” murmurs Daisy, bringing her other hand up to stroke Jemma’s hair. “Love you.”

Jemma mumbles her approximation of a “love you too,” sighing. She’s focused, the world is smaller just now, and that’s what she needs.

Daisy just holds her for a minute, petting her hair, and then she asks, “Are you okay to do me too? ‘Cause if not that’s okay, I can just get it myself.”

Immediately Jemma snaps to attention, looking vaguely horrified at the idea. She whimpers, something in the neighborhood of “please let me help” maybe, then glances down at herself with alarm. Moving her head up and down and up like this has started her in drooling, more than she usually does, and that’s awfully embarrassing even if they’re both used to it.

“Aw, honey, it’s okay,” says Daisy, reaching for the box of tissues that’s conveniently placed on one corner of the desk. She cleans up Jemma’s face and shirt as best she can, then strokes her hair again. “Didn’t mean to freak you out. I just didn’t want to push it if you weren’t feeling up to it.”

Jemma can feel her cheeks burning as she hums an apology, but then she’s distracted by Daisy’s taking care of her so sweet and she moves her head against Daisy’s hand, chasing the affectionate touches. Hopefully, she thinks, what she wants is clear.

“You wanna use fingers too?” Daisy asks, stepping closer.

Jemma nods, shrugging to the best of her ability. She sort of can, after all. That’s the advantage of this position.

Daisy spreads her legs a little, trying to figure out the best way to give Jemma access. “Thank you, honey,” she sighs.

Jemma hums, approximating the best sweet expression she can as she reaches to work at Daisy’s flesh. Her left hand rests mostly on Daisy’s hips, guiding her to the right side so Jemma can actually work on getting her off that way. She’s working with this.

“That’s good,” murmurs Daisy, starting to move against Jemma’s fingers. “You’re so good.”

The praise makes Jemma sigh, wistful and soft, as she strokes Daisy. She’s glad she doesn’t have to say anything particular right now because she doesn’t have anything particular coming to mind, but she hopes at least that Daisy understands how good she’s feeling and how good she wants Daisy to feel in turn.

Daisy lets out a little moan. “More of that, please.”

Jemma hums her understanding, trying to replicate her movements as best she can. After a second of this she tilts her head inquisitively.

Nodding, Daisy closes her eyes for a second. “Just like that, yeah, that’s good.”

That gets Jemma nodding again, eager to please, and she attempts a “thank you” for good measure.

After a minute or two of that, Daisy shudders and collapses against Jemma with a groan. “Good girl,” she murmurs, “you take such good care of me.”

Jemma mumbles her gratitude again, drawing little circles on Daisy’s hip.

Daisy kisses her neck, gentle and fond. She just stands there a minute, happy to feel and smell Jemma all around her, and then she says reluctantly, “We’d better get ready to go back.”

Jemma whimpers, but there’s a tone of begrudging agreement.

“I love you,” whispers Daisy, running a hand through Jemma’s hair. “You good if I undo this?” She runs her finger over the ball.

Jemma nods, glancing down and feeling suddenly a little shy. As soon as she’s understandably able, she gasps out, “I love you too.”

Once she’s undone the cuffs around Jemma’s wrists, Daisy comes back up to kiss her on the lips, giggling. “Here,” she says, handing her another tissue. “You might wanna take care of that.”

“Probably,” Jemma says, cringing but almost playfully. She pats around her mouth and adds, “You’re wonderful.”

“You too,” says Daisy. “Did that...help...at all?” Suddenly she looks unsure.

“It did,” Jemma decides. “Not… I’m still of about ten different opinions about everything that’s going on outside of just you and I, but I feel better. Calmer. I know you’re with me.” She frowns. “Did it help you?”

“Yeah, yeah, it was really nice to just, y’know, focus on something for awhile.” Daisy smiles. “Sucks we have to go, but I think Coulson said something about food.”

“Food might be nice,” Jemma agrees with a weak laugh. “Also pants, probably.”

“Maybe.” Daisy reaches for her pants and hands them to her with a smirk. “Although, I mean, I like you just fine without them.”

“Same to you,” Jemma says. “But that’s not really for everyone to see, is it?”

Daisy laughs and shakes her head. “Nope. Just you.”


End file.
